


harsh attentions

by couldaughter



Series: creatures that i briefly move along (teacher!jon au) [10]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fight Or Flight For Being Asked For A Quick Word, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, Teacher Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Vignette, implied/referenced trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29296086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/couldaughter/pseuds/couldaughter
Summary: Penny raised her eyebrows. “You do need to apologise, that’s true. But Jon, you really haven’t fucked up as much as you seem to think.” She withdrew her hand. Jon couldn’t help but sigh with relief. “See, I’m going to let you in on a secret about teaching.Everyone fucks it up.”Jon huffed, reluctantly amused. His head continued to pound. “I think that’s just a secret about life,” he offered. “I’ve got a lot of experience with it.”
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Original Female Character(s), Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: creatures that i briefly move along (teacher!jon au) [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815988
Comments: 36
Kudos: 276





	harsh attentions

It’s never particularly pleasant, knowing you’ve fucked something up.

“Jon, could I have a quick word?”

Jon tried very hard not to flinch, and followed Penny into the corridor. The headache kept pounding away behind his left eye, the way it had been since he woke up that morning. Martin had given him a very unimpressed look when he’d insisted on coming into work, but Jon was nothing if not persistent. It was one of his worse qualities, going at every problem like a dog with a bone.

Penny pulled out one of the child-sized chairs for him to fold into, and perched herself on the edge of the table. Her skirt had a red paint stain about two inches above the hem, spreading across her kneecap. She had a distant look in her eyes, as if considering how to word her next few sentences.

A few years ago, Jon would have known exactly what it was she was thinking, whether she wanted him to or not. The compulsion would have scratched its way up his spine and out of his mouth, rotting. He shuddered.

“Look, why don’t you tell me what happened there?” Penny tilted her head, expression open and caring. This was honestly worse, because Jon had _no_ idea how to handle an authority figure who might actually care about his well-being.

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, his glasses long since abandoned to the pendulum swing of their chain. He could feel them bumping against his sternum with each breath. His cardigan was still hanging on the back of the desk chair, the cuffs of his shirt not quite brushing his wrists. He resisted the urge to chew at his thumbnail. “I think it was rather obvious,” he said, trying not to sound sarcastic. He usually found that quite difficult. “I got halfway through the lesson and apparently forgot how to behave.”

It had been extremely unpleasant, actually. Even after years away from the creeping influence of the Eye Jon still found himself reaching for it, like a phantom limb, and whenever he did the whiplash of not _finding_ anything was almost physical. In this case, he’d been trying to remember a fact about ants Martin had mentioned, offhand, and accidentally brushed up against the region of his brain which was mostly supernatural scar tissue.

There was nothing there to contact, of course. But his brain remembered how to do it, even though the pathways had been fairly conclusively burned away with the rest of the nightmare world, and it burned its way through them to the inevitable dead end every time.

He was, at least, extremely good at concealing when he was in pain. But that hadn’t stopped him from losing track of George, who had chosen that moment to investigate the top of the bookshelf, and shouting at him for it. This was absolutely _not_ how to handle George, or indeed any child in a Reception class, which was why Jon had clamped his mouth shut so hard his teeth still hurt.

George, understandably, burst into tears, while Jon sat frozen at the explore table and tried not to do something hideous, like start crying, or dissolve.

Penny had taken charge the moment Jon raised his voice, of course, corralled the group he’d been teaching away to the painting table and had Vicks monitor the room while Jon debated the merits of simply melting through the floor. The Desolation would be happy to arrange it, he imagined.

“Right,” said Penny. She was still just _looking_ at him, which made Jon’s skin crawl. “Only, I know you by now, and you’ve been off all morning.” She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright? I didn’t want to mention, you being pricklier than a hedgehog about your health, but you just don’t look a hundred percent.”

“That is besides the point,” replied Jon, trying not to shrink away from her hand. The pressure was all wrong. “I need to apologise to George, and apparently do some more fact finding about minibeasts.” He ran a hand through his hair, still a little damp from the sudden downpour that morning. Rain always made his scars ache.

Penny raised her eyebrows. “You do need to apologise, that’s true. But Jon, you really haven’t fucked up as much as you seem to think.” She withdrew her hand. Jon couldn’t help but sigh with relief. “See, I’m going to let you in on a secret about teaching. _Everyone fucks it up_.”

Jon huffed, reluctantly amused. His head continued to pound. “I think that’s just a secret about life,” he offered. “I’ve got a lot of experience with it.”

“We all do,” said Penny, smiling wryly. “Look, I just wanted to check in. I’m sorry if it made you feel like I was about to get out the thumbscrews or something. You know you can miss a few days if you need to, the course isn’t _that_ demanding.”

“It’s fine,” said Jon. “And I’m okay. Just a headache.” He rubbed at his forehead again. “I just don’t have particularly good experience with, hm, employee feedback.” He closed his eyes against the memory of Elias’ level stare. “It made me, er, panic a little.”

His chest did feel remarkably tight. Martin would be on at him about breathing exercises again, probably.

Penny shrugged sympathetically. “I’ve been there, believe me. My senior mentor at uni was a right bitch.”

Jon bit down on a sarcastic remark. It wasn’t Penny’s fault she didn’t know what she was talking about. In fact, he was rather glad she’d never had to learn.

“I’m serious,” said Penny. She leaned in a little, in the way Jon had learned meant she was about to try and cheer him up. “Absolute terror. Sometimes I wake up at night and see her at the foot of my bed.”

“Sleep paralysis,” said Jon, without really thinking about it. Then he blinked, and shook his head. “Sorry. My old job had a lot of research involved. Got into some weird topics.”

“Oh, that’s the thing where you see demons, right?” Penny asked, sounding thrilled. Then she drooped a little. “God, no, hang on. We can’t get into this, we have a class to teach!” She motioned towards the door. “You head in and find George, I’ll get everyone sorted for the end of the day, alright?”

Jon’s head throbbed again as the legs of his chair scraped against the linoleum floor. He felt a little wobbly as he stood up, but it passed after a few deep breaths. He hadn’t needed his cane that morning, fortunately, but he wouldn’t have minded having the extra support at that moment.

He surveyed the classroom for a moment, ignoring a few queries about why his eyes looked so red, and did his hand hurt, and would he please read the class story at the end of the day, please Mister Sims, with the voices. He spotted a familiar shape curled up in the book corner, underneath the leafy canopy he and Penny had spent half an hour hanging up at the beginning of term.

“George?”

There was an answering growl. Jon knelt on the motorway patterned rug with as much care for his knees as possible.

“It’s okay if you can’t talk,” said Jon. “But I just needed to say sorry.”

* * *

Martin’s coat was already on the hook when Jon got home, a little later than usual, and the hall light was on. He toed off his shoes and thought happily of Nurofen in his very near future.

He could already feel a weight off his shoulders, seeing Martin standing at the cooker, washing up piled by the sink.

“Hello,” he said, padding into the kitchen. Martin turned, wiping his hands on his apron — a Doctor Who one Georgie bought Jon at uni, well-loved — and holding them open for Jon to step into. He’d already set out the Nurofen with a glass of water on the side, because he was the best human alive.

“Hello, Jon,” said Martin. His chin, as always, came to rest on top of Jon’s head. He tucked his face into the crook of Martin’s neck and breathed in deeply, the smell of washing powder heady in his nose. “Work alright?”

Jon hummed. “Ups and downs,” he said. “I’ll tell you once the painkillers kick in. Think Penny might like me.”

The placebo effect was already starting to hit. He could feel the tension in his shoulders starting to ease as Martin ran a hand up and down his spine.

“Wow, shock horror,” said Martin, rolling his eyes. “The woman who invited you to her anniversary party likes having you around? Colour me surprised.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” Jon lied. “Your day alright?”

Martin nodded, then used the momentum to kiss Jon on the forehead. Jon, despite himself, blushed.

“Not much doing really,” he said. “Books are books any day of the week.”

“Mysterious,” said Jon. He rubbed at his forehead again, feeling the headache recede almost in real time.

“I’m trying it out,” said Martin, eyes crinkled as he smiled. He pulled the apron off and hung it on the kitchen door handle, the ties dragging on the lino. “Does it suit?”

“Might need some more evidence before I can reach any firm conclusions,” said Jon. He tugged Martin away from the oven, the pasta bake already safely cooking away, towards the sofa. “I’ll let you know how my research bears out.”

**Author's Note:**

> me? ignoring canon to write in my fluffy little post-canon au? it's more likely than you'd think!
> 
> this is based loosely on a few of my own experiences while teaching. did you know it is possible to be traumatised by a workplace because i actually did not, until it happened to me! the more you know. but penny's chat here is based on what happened at my next workplace, which was staffed by humans and not Avatars Of The Fear Gods 
> 
> this is the first ao3 based venture into jon's pov in this series! i hope it worked out and also the deliberate contrast between jon-at-work-catastrophising and jon-at-home-with-husband is effective. he just loves that big soft martin
> 
> find me on twitter/tumblr @dotsayers! it's been a long time since i updated this series and i honestly don't know when i'll return again, but we're coming up on the end of jon's pgce so eventually i may have to invent a Whole Class for him. exciting times
> 
> title from giving up words with words by a. ammons


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